Pictures of Prypiat Archives - The Life Nomadic

My Trip to Chernobyl Part Two

July 25, 2012 by Cate Brubaker

Continued from part one.

Prypiat is a small city in the Kiev Oblast district of Ukraine. It was founded in 1970 to house the workers of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, in what was then known as Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. Home to nearly 50,000 people, Prypiat was a city boasting much higher standards of living than many of its Soviet counterparts. The city was designed with the maximum in comfort and accommodation for the residents in mind. Prypiat held 13,414 apartments in 160 blocks, plus residences for unmarried workers, 15 primary schools, 5 secondary schools, 1 professional school, 1 hospital with a capacity of 410 patients, as well as numerous shopping, dining, and recreational facilities.

Prypiat was evacuated on April 27, 1986 at 2pm. The citizens were informed of the evacuation by radio broadcast, with only two hours notice. A translation of the evacuation notice is as follows:

“For the attention of the residents of Pripyat! The City Council informs you that due to the accident at Chernobyl Power Station in the city of Pripyat the radioactive conditions in the vicinity are deteriorating. The Communist Party, its officials and the armed forces are taking necessary steps to combat this. Nevertheless, with the view to keep people as safe and healthy as possible, the children being top priority, we need to temporarily evacuate the citizens in the nearest towns of Kiev Oblast. For these reasons, starting from April 27, 1986 2 pm each apartment block will be able to have a bus at its disposal, supervised by the police and the city officials. It is highly advisable to take your documents, some vital personal belongings and a certain amount of food, just in case, with you. The senior executives of public and industrial facilities of the city has decided on the list of employees needed to stay in Pripyat to maintain these facilities in a good working order. All the houses will be guarded by the police during the evacuation period. Comrades, leaving your residences temporarily please make sure you have turned off the lights, electrical equipment and water off and shut the windows. Please keep calm and orderly in the process of this short-term evacuation.”

The evacuation process took 3.5 hours, using 1,100 busses from Kiev. The residents were told that they would be permitted to return to their homes in three days, but no one has lived in Prypiat since that day.

Construction of the city of Slavutych, 45 km away, was begun in June 1986 to house the displaced residents of Prypiat. Most of the survivors were relocated here. The design of the city was planned to be “21st Century” with many very modern conveniences, such as multi-level townhomes and indoor swimming pools. The population in 2007 was 25,000 but that number has dropped in recent years as residents are migrating to other cities, due to loss of work at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant.

Following our break for lunch at the Chernobyl employees’ cafeteria, we boarded the bus for the final stop on our tour, the ghost town of Prypiat. In the last few years Prypiat has gained a certain level of notoriety due to the several television shows that have filmed episodes there, such as Destination Truth and The Vice Guide to Travel. The recent film Chernobyl Diaries has also stirred up a renewed interest in Prypiat, despite the fact that it was filmed in Hungary.

Prypiat is guarded by the last of the checkpoints, which is manned by a lone guard and a shifty dog. We passed through then left our bus a few minutes later, as we would continue our tour through the city on foot. Our first stop was the Prypiat Hospital. Drenched in lush growth, the building was unrecognizable as a hospital from the from the outside. According to Oksana, the 28 firefighters who responded first to the fire at the reactor were brought to this hospital when they began showing signs of radiation sickness. They were quickly evacuated to Moscow’s Hospital #6, which was the only hospital in the USSR capable of handling their cases. They died in Moscow, but their clothing is still in the basement of the Prypiat Hospital, and is highly contaminated. Behind the hospital is a promenade leading to the Prypiat River. Dilapidated vending machines lined the path to the crumbling stairs that lead to the water.

We continued along the promenade to the Prypiat Cinema, where the statue of Prometheus originally stood. The mosaic tiles of the building are still brightly colored, even as they fall to the ground in pieces. We were able to go around to the emergency exit and enter the theater itself. The darkness inside only served to highlight the eeriness, as the tattered remains of the movie screen swayed in the light breeze.

We left the theater behind and continued down the overgrown sidewalk as Oksana described the “Pram Parade” that took place here nightly, as parents brought their children out during the summer months, 25 years ago. We passed by apartment towers, their doors and windows propped open. We then approached the Cultural Center, once home to a lively community, now decrepit, mouldering and covered with ominous graffiti. Again, our group was allowed to enter a portion of the building. My boots slipped over broken glass and other debris as I made my way into the lobby. A peeling yet very colorful, and very Soviet, mural loomed overhead. The dusty staircases crawled toward the upper floors, but we weren’t allowed to continue.

The boxing gym was our next stop. The octagonal building must once have been beautiful, with a sky high dome and floor to ceiling windows. Now, however, it is still beautiful, in a very different way. The glass in the windows has been broken, and tree branches weave through the cracks. The stuffing from the mats is inches deep all over the floor, and creates a surreal nest for the lone pommel horse, standing in the middle of the room.

As we left the boxing gym, the most iconic symbol of Prypiat was perched tall above the trees, the Ferris wheel. The amusement park was under construction during the first part of 1986, and was scheduled to open on May 1, for the May Day celebration. As we rounded the corner and the large space came into full view, it was incredible. The rusted metal parts of the structure, complete with a laurel design, were in sharp contrast to the still bright yellow of the baskets. A ticket booth, tagged and sad, stood nearby. Oksana told us that it is rumored the amusement park opened for a short time on April 27, 1986 to distract the city’s residents from the quickly escalating crisis at the nearby reactor. Regardless of the truth of that rumor, seeing the amusement park brought the sadness and desolation to the surface, especially given the fact that the most radioactive patch of moss in the world grows just to the left of the bumper cars.

Our last stop was the complex of buildings housing a former grocery store, amongst other things. As we approached, Oksana pointed out the various aisles and shelves, and translated the still standing signs for us: beer, meat, bread, produce. Oxidized and broken shopping carts littered the scene, but the art surrounding us was the main attraction. Decidedly Banksy-esque, well crafted paintings graced the walls and lended a macabre touch of humanity to the landscape. Someone took the time to apply a bit of beauty to this dark place.

We then got back on the bus and left, and then had the two hour trip back to Kiev to process what we had seen. For many people, the Chernobyl accident is a distant memory, and it is a non-issue for the others. Some of the people with us on our tour were children in 1986, the others not even born. What is the attraction? For me it was a reminder of my teen years, at the tail end of the Cold War, and a disaster that seemed to be the Soviet Bloc’s ultimate demise. It was the scene of a terrible accident, and yet, had I not gone, I would not have seen the hope that the Ukrainians have. It was only five years later that Ukraine became an independent nation, yet that fledgling nation was left to clean up and maintain the worst nuclear accident in history.

Ultimately, I am so glad that I went. Even though I still cast a suspicious eye toward the hiking boots and clothes that I wore that day.

Note: I have deliberately omitted death toll information from this post. Due to suspected lack of complete and accurate information from the USSR, numbers vary from 48 people to 650,000 people to over 1,000,000 people. If you’d like to come to your own conclusion, there are many resources available on the web.

Many thanks to our tour company and guide for a very informative and memorable experience.

Visit our facebook page for more photos and “like” us while you’re there!

My Trip to Chernobyl Part One

July 20, 2012 by Cate Brubaker

On April 26, 1986 at Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant in Ukraine a routine systems test was being implemented. A sudden increase in power output during the test prompted an emergency shutdown. As power levels continued to rise, a series of explosions rocked Reactor #4 which exposed parts of the reactor to the atmosphere, causing them to ignite. The resulting fires sent a plume of radioactive material into the sky and sparked the worst nuclear accident in history.

The city of Prypiat, near the reactor complex, housed the Soviet citizens who worked there. It was a bustling city of 50,000 people and an apartment there was highly coveted. Prypiat boasted a standard of living exceeding that of other Soviet cities at the time, and it is rumored that Prypiat was the only city other than Moscow where the black market perfume, Chanel No. 5, was available for purchase. All of the residents were evacuated on April 27, 1986. No one has lived there since that day.

On May 6, 1986 the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant Zone of Alienation, or Exclusion Zone, was established. Radii of 10 km and 30 km surrounding the reactor were put into place based on radiation levels at the time. The Exclusion Zone covers an area of approximately 2,600 square kilometers and is managed by the Ukrainian Ministry of Emergencies. The Zone is controlled by a series of checkpoints and access is strictly regulated.

Generally speaking, the radiation levels found in the areas visited by tourists are considered safe. Most readings show levels of 0.15 to 3.0 microsieverts per hour, with a lethal dose being 3 to 5 sieverts. Radiation exposure during a two hour airplane flight at 30,000 feet is approximately 6 microsieverts. That being said, radiation levels vary widely within the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone and fluctuate due to wind and weather patterns. Ultimately, the choice to visit the zone is a personal one, but children under 18 and pregnant women are not issued a pass.

The Ministry of Emergencies requires that reservations must be made 10 days in advance with an authorized tour company. One, two and four day tours can be arranged and the price varies depending on the size of the tour group and the duration of the tour, typically from 150USD to 200USD per person for a day tour and up to 600USD per person for a four day tour. Strict rules regarding dress and behavior are also enforced. Clothing must cover your arms and legs, and closed shoes must be worn. It is mandatory that masks are issued to each visitor, but they are not required to be worn. Eating, drinking and smoking outside of approved areas is strictly forbidden. Disturbing soil, placing personal items or sitting on the ground, and touching or taking plants and animals is also prohibited.

On Saturday July 14, 2012, twenty five years after the meltdown at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, I boarded a bus at Kiev’s Revolution Square. As the bus made its way north and the suburban houses slipped away, I was initially struck by the beauty of the Ukrainian countryside. Cattle and horses grazed in lush fields dotted with wildflowers. The verdant pastures were broken by dense forests of birch, aspen and pine. Elderly people sat near the road, small tables laden with eggs, honey, flowers, fruits and vegetables for sale. Small towns boasted cottages with thatched roofs and children rode bicycles and played while chickens scratched in the yards.

As we continued our journey toward the first of the checkpoints in the Exclusion Zone, I wondered when the devastation would become apparent: the scorched earth and trees, the mutant animals, the gas masks and ominous signs heralding the universally recognized symbol for radiation. The only signs that I had seen were the ones proclaiming, in Russian, that forest fires are bad. The families picnicking amongst the trees alongside the road didn’t seem to be concerned about the fact that the imaginary line delineating the most radioactive place on earth was just a few kilometers away.

We arrived at the first checkpoint where we met our guide, Oksana. As she described the process of checking in and advised us to take no pictures of the checkpoint, it began to sink in. Perhaps it was Oksana’s heavily accented English which illustrated the gravity of it. It is hard to hear a Russian accent and not immediately be taken back to the Cold War era, especially when that accented voice is telling you to produce your papers.

Once all the members of our group had cleared the checkpoint we entered the 30km exclusion zone. Oksana explained that she is one of approximately 4,000 people who currently work inside the Zone. Critical employees such as scientists and engineers are working at the reactors, but tour guides and support staff filling many different positions also make up the population of workers. People working very near the reactor will work four days, then have four days off. Workers like Oksana tend to have fifteen days on and fifteen days off. They are housed near the edge of the Zone in apartments which we could see from the road; apartments made very homey with flower boxes and curtains fluttering in the breeze.

The outskirts of the Zone are littered with semi-occupied buildings, memorials and monuments such as the statue of Gabriel constructed of rebar and replicas of the robotic vehicles donated by Germany and Japan that were used, with little success, in the containment efforts. We passed by the memorial dedicated to the victims of a helicopter crash and stopped at the one honoring the 28 firefighters that died of radiation poisoning. However, this monument wasn’t reason that we stopped here. It was what lay at the end of the trail beside it.

The nursery school building was overgrown and crumbling. Oksana cautioned us that the floor was unstable. Broken glass littered the steps leading to the front door. Dolls, clothes, and other toys were strewn across the floor. Bunkbeds were made up with moldy bedding. Dusty papers were stacked on desks. Tree branches pressed through the broken windows. The air was heavy with decay and desolation. The few minutes spent there set the mood for the rest of the tour.

We returned to bus to begin the short drive to see the reactor. However, this drive would take us through what is known as “The Red Forest”, so named for the color of the trees in the days following the explosion. The evergreen forest turned a deep blood red before the trees died and were bulldozed and covered. This part of the Zone is considered to have one of the highest radiation levels on the planet. While our driver coaxed the bus to a shuddering 120kph, Oksana held her Geiger counter out the window, and we listened to the frantic beeping of the machine as she read off the numbers. The highest reading was 16.0 microsieverts, but the soil readings would have been much higher, had we stopped to check.

The contaminated forest behind us, we slowed and stopped for our first view of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant itself. Austere and solemn, the cooling towers rose from the river banks and the reactors loomed in the distance. We continued on and stopped briefly to hurl chunks of bread into the cooling channel for the monstrous catfish. They are so big not because of a mutation, but because catfish continue to grow all of their lives, and there’s no one left here to kill them. Across the street is another memorial wall, and a statue of Prometheus surrounded by day lilies. The statue had originally been placed at the movie theater in nearby Prypiat, but has since been moved to the power plant itself.

A quick jaunt in the bus brought us to the epicenter, which is Reactor #4. Shrouded in concrete sarcophagus riddled with holes, the reactor loomed ominously dark, even under sunny skies. Two guards lingered nearby, ostensibly to make sure that we pointed our cameras only in the allowed directions, but it seemed as if they couldn’t be bothered to do much of anything but stare. A hundred meters from the reactor is the construction site of the new containment system. A steel arch measuring 190 meters wide and 200 meters long will cover the concrete sarcophagus and is expected to be finished in 2013.

Lunchtime followed the visit to the reactor, and we were expected at the Chernobyl canteen, where the workers took their own meals. We were obligated to pass through radiation scanners before being allowed into the building. Our lunch consisted of borscht, salad, chicken and bread and was served by stone-faced Russian lunch ladies that would strike the fear of Stalin into anyone. Lunch was quick and to-the-point and we were soon back on the bus for the final and arguably the most interesting stop on our tour, the abandoned city of Prypiat.

P1020237 — Pre-Lunch Radiation Screening

To be continued in part two when we visit the haunting city of Prypiat.

Many thanks to our tour company and guide for a very informative and memorable experience.

For full size photos and more, visit our facebook page and “like” us while you’re there!